Egg on Toast

This morning I sat at the counter next to my daughter--her hair all disheveled in her pink penguin jammies--and just soaked it all in. I had made her the new favorite in our house: an egg on toast. Brian taught them the unusual combination--toast with peanut butter and jelly, an over-easy egg, ketchup and just a drop of hot sauce. Don't be too quick to judge--you should try it before you knock it. It really is good!

But as I sat and watched her gobble up her egg on toast, it occurred to me that we won't have too many more weekday mornings left. My little girl is not so little any more and next year she will be in kindergarten for a half day every morning. That means no more breakfast conversations just the two of us after her brothers have been whisked away by the bus. Oh, how I will miss our mornings together!

I've been challenged several times over the last week to be PRESENT--to be where my feet are. Today was another good reminder. So I hope to encourage you, dear reader, to be where you are today. Take time away from the phone or whatever list is calling your name and just be where you are. Soak it up. Hot sauce and all. 

overJOYED

As I sit down to write this blog, I look around and consider the haphazard state of my home--and my life! At first glance the Christmas tree looks beautiful, but if you look closely, you'll notice the pre-lit promise from two years ago didn't uphold its end of the bargain. For the entire month of December (until just this past week), we had a half lit tree that would be lucky to fall into the Charlie Brown category. Now we have lights from Dollar General draped over the burnt out ones and really--if you stay at a distance and don't pay too much attention to the leaning star at the top--it looks quite nice. 

Under the tree there are not many gifts--it's December 21st and while I feel guilty on the inside that my children have no gifts under there yet (don't worry, they are hidden upstairs--draped over with t-shirts in the back of my husband's closet), I simply have not had the energy after they go to bed to get them wrapped. 

My house is literally in shambles. There are mountains of piles of junk everywhere. Quite literally you would be fortunate to find two square feet of clear space on any counter or floor area. Upstairs is worse. I need to make a sign at the bottom of the steps--DANGER! ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK! I thank God for such a wonderful babysitter who helps me beyond measure or you literally would not be able to find the sink or the laundry room!

I guess what I'm saying is that if you are judging my Christmas season by what our culture says is a success--I am a major fail. I tell you this because on the inside I am tempted to lean that way: Yes, I am a major fail. As a mom, as a wife, as a home maker and so on. But as I look back to my last blog and consider my prayers through this Advent season, I find much reason to rejoice and recognize I must pray against the enemy's attempts at stealing my joy. Someone recently mentioned that comparison is the thief of joy. And so if I compare my house, my gift wrapping, my all together NOT altogether-ness...then yes, I would have no joy. 

So tonight I must pray that my joy will not be found in the fleeting things of this world. I must pray again--Lord, let me find my joy in you. 

Brian had an opportunity to listen to Alistair Begg speak last weekend. If you've never heard him speak, you really must check him out at truthforlife.org. It is more than worth your time. He spoke about our inability to understand and appreciate Christmas without also understanding and appreciating Easter. We can't truly celebrate the birth of Christ without understanding why He came and the gravity of what his coming means for our souls. After all--that is what Advent means: COMING. 

I was most stunned by the illustration of the three wise men and their gifts. We all know the song, we all know what they brought: gold, frankincense and myrrh. But do you really know what each of them are--what they pointed to? The gold and frankincense make sense--they are fit for a baby who will be king. For a baby who will be THE KING. 

But myrrh?

Myrrh, you see, is used for pain or for embalming a body. Pastor Begg raised the question: how is this appropriate for a baby?  And he went on to explain that this gift of myrrh--was incredibly appropriate--in fact, it was "offensively appropriate." You see, even in the first gifts that baby Jesus received, God was already pointing to the cross--to the pain and ultimately, TO THE RESURRECTION. 

Our culture celebrates Christmas this time of year, but so much has been forgotten of the Christ. 

But when I stop to think about what Christmas really is--that the God of the universe sent His son (who was also fully God) down to earth to take on human nature (he became fully man) so that He could die the death I deserve, I am overJOYED. 

Sadly, John 3:16 has become borderline cliche in our culture these days. People know it and yet they don't KNOW it--in their hearts, that is...

"For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life."

Can you believe that!? I do! With all my heart. If I confess my brokenness and believe in Jesus and what He did for me on the cross, I can spend forever with Him in eternity. 

So do you believe in Him, dear reader? Not do you believe He existed. But do you recognize in your deepest core your NEED for Him? Have you told Him so? Have you confessed your brokenness? Have you asked for His forgiveness? Have you asked Him to take over your life?

If not, what's stopping you?

Because I can tell you this with certainty--if you have not, you cannot experience the true JOY of Christmas. 

But if you have, you can experience a new joy. A real joy. A genuine--fill you up and overflow your cup kind of joy. An eternal joy. 

So I will leave you with this: a prayer from the Advent book our church published for this Christmas season. Allow it to get you started...

Dear God, I want to accept the gift of your son. Please forgive me of all the things I have done wrong. I trust in Jesus to rescue me from all my failings by the means of his perfect life, substitutional death, and powerful resurrection. Amen. 

Praying for you right this minute as I write these words--may you find your JOY in Him this CHRISTmas. 

JOY

Joy. I was talking with someone recently about the difference between fun and joy. I feel often in so many life situations that people want everything to be fun. What I really hear when someone says "all I want to do is have fun" is that they really just want it to be easy. Fun is usually easy. But I also think fun--in its most elemental form--can be shallow.

When I think about moments of JOY in my life--they are often moments that were preceded by hard work, investment, prayer and process. Like having my babies. I will never forget the moments when I held them against my chest for the first time. I cried--tears of JOY. But being pregnant was not necessarily fun as we think of it. It was uncomfortable and scary and long and trying. But the end (or should I say the next beginning)-- this little tiny person--this was all worth it. This is JOY. 

I have been challenged this Christmas season to pray for my family to experience Christmas with JOY. It will certainly be fun to open presents and give presents. It will be fun to think about Santa and his reindeer. It will be fun in many ways. But I know that these things pass quickly by. I know that fun is fleeting and leaves us only wanting for more--never satisfied.

But JOY--this is something different altogether. I am praying this Christmas season that the Lord will work in my heart and the hearts of my husband and children to experience the JOY of the Lord this Christmas season. To consider the gift that Christmas really is all about. Even as I write these words, I see His hand at work. That 2000 years later, we are still celebrating the birth of Christ speaks to the longevity and depth of JOY.

May the words of one of our favorite Christmas carols ring true in our hearts this Advent season: "Joy to the world, the Lord is come... ." May we pursue more than the "fun" our culture has turned Christmas into. I know I cannot do this on my own. I know that I am drawn to the sales, to the gift giving, to the chaos, which in moderation can all be good. But as my heart flees from moderation to obsession, may the Lord work in my heart to know and experience the JOY of the Lord. Join me in praying for this this Advent season. 

Thanksgiving

Someone recently challenged me to "think others first." They made me consider whether or not I was "adding value" to the people I come in contact with on a daily basis. I've been amazed at how often I want to think about myself when I'm in a conversation or interject my story into something that doesn't need to be about me. I've found myself having to pray to be present and pray to add value because it is so NOT natural for me. 

So I challenge us all today: how can we add value to someone's life? How can we let someone know we are thankful for them? Give them a call? Write them a letter? Or simply listen?

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He Restoreth My Soul

As October comes to a close and the leaves finally begin to change (how awesome has this weather been!?), I felt like it was time for an update on the very thing the Lord used to start my blog: Multiple Sclerosis. It’s funny—I rarely use those two words. Most often I will simply say that I have MS. But actually writing those words out reminds me of what they mean: MULTIPLE SCARS.

When I think of my journey with MS over the past two and a half years, I think of the many scars it has left on me physically—all the lesions on my brain and spinal cord—the tangible reminders that can still cause my hands to ache when I’m stressed or sick or tired. I think of the other scars—the trials, the relationships, the parts of my life that have had to change because of this disease.

But as I consider the many scars that MS has left, I think it’s worth considering the definition of scars. Just Googling the word brings up this definition:

"...A scar results from the biological process of wound repair in the skin and other tissues of the body. Thus, scarring is a natural part of the healing process."

I can’t help but pause at the final sentence: Scarring is a natural part of the healing process.

And I must tell you, dear friend, that although my MULTIPLE SCLEROSIS—my MS—my many scars, have led me down some of the hardest roads I’ve ever traveled, these same scars have also revealed to me my weakness, my insufficiency, my brokenness. They have led me to the feet of my Savior, bowed low and begging for mercy. In the great paradox of Christian life—the Lord has begun to heal me in and through my suffering.

Don’t misunderstand—He has not healed my body—but I can say with certainty I see Him using it in my life to sanctify and mature me. In a conversation recently, I shared with someone that I don’t think I would ever trade these past two years with MS back for the old me. Not because it wasn’t hard—trust me, it has been that—but because the way the Lord has used this form of suffering to draw me closer to Him is worth more than any ease and comfort.

Even as those words spill onto the page, a part of me beckons them back—like the words that come out too quickly that you wish you could usher back in. And yet, I feel compelled to leave them because I have made an oath of honesty here with you. I can’t tell you I like having MS. I can’t tell you I enjoy it. I can’t tell you I “want” it. But I can tell you I see His hand in it. On this side of two years, I can tell you I can see purpose.

Those of you that have followed this blog from its beginning know the verses at the top of the page. You know the Lord put John 9:1-3 on my heart even before I was diagnosed. You know I prayed to give Him my heart in all of this and asked Him to speak what is true. And if you’ve followed at all, you know that He has fulfilled this promise. You know that He even shared my story—His story—on the front of the local newspaper, allowing the works of God to be displayed in me.

I have felt well these past six months. So well. So well there were times this summer that I wondered if I even still had MS. I am so thankful. It was such an earnest reminder to be thankful even for the things that never happened—like a horrible, hot summer where I’m so fatigued I can’t even move. I am so thankful I didn’t experience that this summer. I am so thankful for the unusual coolness we experienced here. He is teaching me to count my blessings. To appreciate the little things.

A few months ago I felt compelled to pray for a new verse. And the Holy Spirit put one on my heart:

“He restoreth my soul” (Psalm 23:3).

I can tell you with confidence the Lord will heal me—whether that is here or in eternity I cannot know. But this I do know—His Word is always true.

So how has he used my scars to heal me? How is that He has even used the name of this wretched disease for my good and His glory? He has grown in me a love of His Word, even a reliance. He has shown me my need for a Savior and has begun to harken my soul towards eternity. Some days I just can’t wait to get there. Not in a morbid kind of way but because I cannot possibly wait to see Him face to face.

 And in the meantime, I pray for you, dear reader. That perhaps this blog might be an encouragement in your trial. He can use your suffering, too. I encourage you to seek Him in it.

And as I head into a new season, I confess my fears. I can already feel the weight of each day a little heavier now with the busyness that comes with it. I confess I am afraid of how I will feel. Of how I will get through. But I can also tell you He has placed on my heart to TRUST. And so I pray that He will help me to do just that.

How could you pray for me?

For grace.

Grace for today.

Grace for tomorrow.

And grace for each day after.

That I might find healing in the scars. And that He might “restoreth my soul.”

10 But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace to me was not without effect. No, I worked harder than all of them—yet not I, but the grace of God that was with me.

1 Corinthians 15:10

Truth

In a world full of opinion--that which is popular and that which is not, that which can shift like the changing of the wind--it can sometimes be hard to discern where to stand on the issues of life.  This past weekend, in one of the best sermons I've ever heard--clearly inspired by the Holy Spirit--our pastor reminded us that we need not lean on any opinion. In all matters, we must know where to look. Not what does our neighbor say, or our family say or our husband say or even what does our pastor say, but rather what does Jesus say?

WHAT DOES JESUS SAY?

Where can we find the answers on all the issues of our lives--of today and tomorrow and forevermore? The Bible, dear friend. We must look no further than the Word of God. 

***

From the beginning of my Reformation I have asked God to send me neither dreams, nor visions, nor angels, but to give me the right understanding of His Word, the Holy Scriptures; for as long as I have God's Word, I know that I am walking in His way and that I shall not fall into any error or delusion.

Martin Luther

Tupperware Drawer

Do you ever feel like your Tupperware drawer? Maybe yours is neat and organized--nicely stacked and you can always find the right lid because it is always nestled just perfectly in the same place. This is not me (as you can see by the picture!). Don't get me wrong-- I want it to look organized and I want to know where every last lid belongs, but I confess that I simply cannot seem to keep it organized despite my best efforts.

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As Fall gets underway, I feel like my life has felt a little bit like my Tupperware drawer: there's a lot going on, and I'm not always certain I'm going to be able to make it all line up! And some days I'm just not sure I have the energy to see the day all the way through. I think if we're honest, we all feel this way sometimes. 

But the Lord has put Scripture on my heart for this new season, and He has so graciously reminded me that I'm right--I don't have enough. And I never will. I need His grace at work in me:

By the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me was not in vain. On the contrary, I worked harder than any of them, though it was not I, but the grace of God that is with me.

1 Corinthians 15:10

Immeasurably More

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Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen. 

Ephesians 3: 20-21

***

God's Word is always true. And when He tells us He is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, He really is. Ten years ago Brian and I prayed desperately about where we would live and raise our family after vet school. We both desired to be near family--I hoped more for the city and he hoped more for the country. 

God so clearly called us to the city, but last year He continued to answer our prayers in a way that was immeasurably more than all we ever could have asked or imagined: He gave us the country in the city.

We now own 15 acres of land right in the middle of the city, and we could not be more in awe of God's faithfulness. 

We have prayed over this land and look forward to the day the Lord will help us build a home there. Until then, we have also prayed for abundant fruitfulness for the land itself. Brian knows my favorite flowers are sunflowers, and so he planted a field of wild flowers this summer. And can you imagine the abundance? The beauty? The immeasurably more... ?

It brings to mind one of my favorite hymns. I leave you with it here, as well as a picture taken in our field!

Great Is Thy Faithfulness

“Great is Thy faithfulness,” O God my Father,
There is no shadow of turning with Thee;
Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not
As Thou hast been Thou forever wilt be.

 “Great is Thy faithfulness!” “Great is Thy faithfulness!”
  Morning by morning new mercies I see;
All I have needed Thy hand hath provided—
    “Great is Thy faithfulness,” Lord, unto me!

Summer and winter, and springtime and harvest,
Sun, moon and stars in their courses above,
Join with all nature in manifold witness
To Thy great faithfulness, mercy and love.

Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth,
Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide;
Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow,
Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside!

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On Pride

I listened to a song recently that challenged me to be honest. About the hard things in life—the nitty gritty kind of stuff we try to hide away so people can’t see we’re not as neatly put together as we seem. So if I’m totally honest with you about the hard things the Lord has put on my heart recently, I’d have to say He has been pruning my soul in the way of pride.

Pride is scary. I confess I approach any prayer regarding pride with the utmost caution: Humble me, Lord, but oh, please be merciful!

That word—HUMBLE—is also a scary word. Humility describes our Lord Jesus Christ in every way:

5 In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus:

6 Who, being in very nature[a] God,
    did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage;
7 rather, he made himself nothing
    by taking the very nature[b] of a servant,
    being made in human likeness.
8 And being found in appearance as a man,
    he humbled himself
    by becoming obedient to death—
        even death on a cross!

Philippians 2:5-8

Christ—in all His ways—was the perfect picture of humility. The exact opposite of Satan, who desired to be like God. No, Christ who in every way was God, instead humbled himself to become man in order to save us from our sin.

On the other hand, I can assure you, my flesh, left to its own devices, wants nothing to do with humility. But recently I have asked the Lord to reveal the hidden sins in my life (the log in my own eye), and He has so carefully revealed this one to me.

Over the past few years, the Lord has shown me in circumstances both big and small just how deep this pride is rooted in me. So deeply that in one of my times of greatest need, I was so blinded with pride that I could not even see the solution to my despair staring me in the face. I could not—would not—accept the Lord’s answer.

And what did the Lord do with me? He cut me back. He humbled me in ways I hope I never experience again. And then softened my heart and opened my eyes.

And the answer that had stared me so boldly in the face—the one thing I did not want to do-- that is exactly where He ultimately led me.

On my knees. In prayer. Completely dependent on Him. 

These are the hard things in life. The realities we try to hide. The thoughts we never share. The motivations we work so hard to cover up with our pretty speech, our nice clothes, our happy smiles. What have I learned in this process? Am I now the humblest person you’ve ever met?

No.

He continues to reveal to me the pride in my life. Even in my obedience—even in my best moments in man’s eye—He so graciously reveals this sin.

There have been times where I am so discouraged by it, I find it difficult to lift my head off the pillow in the morning. But then in His love and mercy, as I believe He helps me grow in Him, He helps me see that in my sin, the gospel is even more beautiful than I ever could have imagined.

Barbara Duguid’s book, Extravagant Grace, describes the beauty of this process: “God is kind and merciful, and he does not show us the truth about ourselves all at once. Instead, he appoints seasons and moments when he opens our eyes bit by bit so that we can bear it.” She goes on to say, “The wonderful thing about seeing the scale of my [sin] was that once I saw it, I could confess it and ask God for the gift of repentance. When we live in denial about sin and do not see ourselves accurately, we can’t really grow. We are paralyzed until the Holy Spirit moves to give us sight and then grants repentance in his time” (117).

Ultimately, God uses these things in our lives to show us our need for a Savior and to help us better appreciate what Christ did for us on the cross. Because of His love on the cross, God sees me washed clean. I can look back and see my paralysis. I can look and see the Holy Spirit moving to give me sight. And I can tell you I am learning more and more that even in the painful lessons He teaches us--both big and small--He is gentle. I am far more wretched than I ever imagined. He needs me to know that. And yet He helps me also to see--even more so--that He loves me anyway. So much so that He would send His son to die on the cross that I might be forgiven. 

I confess at times I have a hard time accepting His forgiveness. This may sound ridiculous, but again, it points to my pride. Instead, I hold myself hostage, certain God could never forgive me.  I try hard to work my way out of it or do better so He can see I really am sorry. I’m a go-getter, a get it done kinda girl. I want to fix this too. My way. But the Bible is clear that God in his wisdom will never let me find lasting comfort in my own works because nothing I can do will be enough to cover my own sins. Only Christ can do that: “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast” (Eph. 2:8-9). Amazing grace, how sweet the sound! Grace. Such an important reminder that I cannot change my own heart.

And that even in my weakness He can draw me nearer to Him. He helps me in weakness to see that He is all I need:

My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.

2 Corinthians 12:9

 

 

Childhood Cancer Awareness

September is National Childhood Cancer Awareness Month. As many of you know, my nephew, Kaden, is a survivor of brain cancer! Thanks to all of you who have prayed for this little boy and his parents. Please continue to keep Kaden in your prayers--that he will never have cancer again, for him to know and love Jesus and that his story might point people to the real miracle worker in heaven!

Check out these recent pics of Kaden on his WISHES CAN HAPPEN trip to Disney World, and read an excerpt from a recent Facebook post from his mama!

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Childhood Awareness is something I never thought about. Never thought one of those bald headed beauties would be one of mine. It's hard to believe taht only 4% of money dedicated to cancer research is for children. It's even harder to believe knowing that childhood cancer is the number one cause of death by disease of our children. Advocate... . 

-Jen Allerding (Kaden's mother)

Back to School

September 1st and it feels like the door has officially closed on summer. Instead of melting away with the rising sun, today the coolness stuck in the air long enough to make me put on long-sleeves and throw together a crock pot of chili for dinner.

It’s back to school kind of weather.

Charley woke up yesterday and informed me that she could “barely sleep” the night before she was so excited to start preschool. On her way out the door she told me it was going to be the “best day ever,” and then when I got home in the afternoon she declared with all the spunk she could muster, “FYI, Mom: the boys didn’t nap!”

Back to school is an in-my-face reminder that my baby isn’t a baby anymore. In fact, I’m tempted to believe the saying that she’s 4 going on 16. Seriously.

But with the back to school reality also comes the subtle reminder that life just keeps on moving--that just like the seasons, our stay here on earth is not permanent, and despite all we may do to thwart its progress, time keeps on ticking. Sometimes I feel like summer is a tease—like a fake tattoo—so bright, so vibrant, so seemingly permanent. You’re certain it’s there to stay and then it fades almost as quickly as it came. That’s part of why I love Ohio, though. Life is simply happening and then one day the wind rustles the trees in just a slightly different way, as if in one breath whispering goodbye to summer and in the next breath ushering in fall with a quiet yet sweet hello. As I feel the coolness on my skin, I also sense a quiet mustering of excitement inside of me. I feel like this happens every season--with the first snowfall, the first blooms and the first splash in the pool.

In a culture where the passing of time and the notion of growing old is something to hinder or to battle, I feel the changing of seasons somehow encourages within me an appreciation of God's handiwork and the blessings that come with the progression of time. With Christ as your anchor, the best is always yet to come. 

As you settle into the new season, friend, I want to share a cool back to school Scripture acronym sent to me by my sister-in-law (thanks, Sarah!).  I thought it was a great image and tool. Hope you enjoy it, too!

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Peace

In the battles of life, your peace is actually a weapon. Indeed, your confidence declares that you are not falling for the lies of the devil. You see, the first step toward having spiritual authority over the adversary is having peace in spite of our circumstances. When Jesus confronted the devil, He did not confront Satan with His emotions or in fear. Knowing that the devil was a liar, He simply refused to be influenced by any other voice than God's. His peace overwhelmed Satan, His authority then shattered the lie, which sent demons fleeing. 

Francis Frangipane, The Three Battlegrounds (from Praying God's Word by Beth Moore)

 

Labor of Love

The other weekend, I sat down to enjoy a feast my mother had prepared for the whole family. Halfway through the meal I looked up to see my brother-in-law still preparing his bratwurst for the first bite. It’s a process with him. He is an IT manager by trade, but his love is cooking. He will spend hours laboring over his masterpiece, hustling here and there around the kitchen or grill—cutting, chopping, sprinkling this spice and then that one.

But when he doesn’t prepare the whole meal, as in this instance, he still prepares his own plate.

It is a labor of love.

Down to the very last shake of the salt.

It’s easy to think he’s just a slow eater, but then you see the way he labors over it, the way he savors the process (his meal is always so much prettier than mine!), and you know it’s more than just a meal to him. It’s a work of art.  

I feel like this is the way the Lord works in our lives. It’s a process. Sometimes a painstakingly slow process, but our great God is in every detail, weaving a masterpiece far beyond our imaginations.

Even when it’s hard. Even when it’s painful.

It is a labor of love. Down to the very last shake of the salt.

Marriage

Brian and I celebrated our ten year anniversary last night, and we watched one of my all-time favorite movies: You've Got Mail. It's one of the very few movies I tell Brian he could buy me and I'd actually watch it over and over again. I'm not sure why I love it so much, other than I'm quite certain there was a time in my life where I wanted to be Meg Ryan's character. In the movie she is Kathleen Kelly, owner of The Shop Around the Corner, a quaint little New York children's book store. She wears turtlenecks and cardigans and knee length skirts that I tried to imitate in my wardrobe for years after the movie was made. She's quietly brilliant, magnificently charming, witty and so incredibly kind that Tom Hank's character--who tries desperately to hate her--can't help but fall madly in love with her. Ultimately, I'm sure what I was attracted to most was the love story that brings Kathleen Kelly and Joe Fox to a dream ending. 

As we watched the movie together last night, belly laughing over some of the ridiculous humor, I couldn't help but think about what their marriage might ultimately have looked like if we'd been blessed with a sequel. The movies never show that part, you know? The hard part, the real part, the beautiful part.

I've heard people say that their wedding day was the best part of their marriage--it's all downhill from there. I think how sad that must be. As Brian and I talked last night, we reminisced on the early days of our marriage. How different those days were. And how different we are now.

What most amazes me over the ten years of our journey together is the Lord's mercy poured out--how much closer we are to Him today than we were ten years ago. I've always heard people say it but now I know what they mean: I wish we knew then what we do now.

But Brian stopped me--It's all a part of the process, he said. And so it is. And I pray, looking forward, that in another ten years we might sit watching Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks--still belly laughing together--but reflecting on the Lord's hand in bringing us even more wisdom over the next ten.

I've had it on my heart recently to pray more intentionally for my husband, something I'm ashamed to say I haven't always done as well as I ought to. A dear friend recommended a wonderful book called Prayers of an Excellent Wife by Andrew Case. I recommend it to you, both young and older wives, alike. What better way to serve our husbands and our families than to get our knees to the floor and our hearts seeking the Lord for His will in our husbands' lives. 

I do not thank the Lord enough for bringing Brian into my life. Our wedding day was beautiful--magical in all the ways a little girl dreams of it being. But I'm so thankful it was not the best day of our lives. I'm so thankful that each day we grow together by the grace God gives us for that day. And I'm thankful that because we both profess Him as Savior, there is no doubt that the best is yet to come.